


Consent to Sacrifice

by Symmet



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: ANCIENT ELVHEN UNICORNS, Compassion chides lavellan, F/M, Solas squints at Pride through most of it, Unicorns, somewhat angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU of an Au of an AU.<br/>Inspired by feynite's Looking Glass AU (well an Au of that AU)</p><p> </p><p>Compassion tells a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consent to Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Looking Glass AU's](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247422) by [Feynite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feynite/pseuds/Feynite). 



> I thought 'Did Ghilan'nain ever make a unicorn?' and then I thought, 'probably'.
> 
> And then I wrote my first ever fanfic of a fanfic in one sitting.
> 
> weird.
> 
> **edit: also I finally made a cover**

#  [ ](http://s1295.photobucket.com/user/arlanengin/media/Hearts%20a%20Thorn%20Consent%20to%20sacrffice%20alternate%20cover_zpsnxnuuv6b.png.html)

The woman who approaches her has something to her like Compassion. It is a sort of softness in her eyes, but Lavellan can see that it is also battered, as if Sorrow and Rage had met her before, hard with determination and a certain incorrigible will of spirit.

She is sure she had seen her around - flitting from hall to hall, quietly stealing away over the grounds. Not in the library, and yet in secluded spaces that Lavellan would have otherwise assumed were mostly unvisited. It breeds in her a certain sense of kinship - this avoidance of company.

Maybe that is why she lets the woman draw close enough to speak.

An unsaid but evident sort of companionship between them. Shared hardship - shared pains.

She is left regretting the decision when the woman asks her if she could heal her arm.

Ah.

“No, I don’t want a new arm.” She says, voice flat. She has been here for months now, and still?

 _Of course not. Why would they understand?_ She told herself perhaps a bit harshly. Pride had certainly attempted, and Haninan had been even more accepting of her state. That was worth noting.

But neither is standing before her. Just a stranger with imagined familiarity.

And despite how much Solas tells them otherwise, the nobles still whisper derisively about 'the construct' when she walks past.

She turns to leave, but a feather light pressure at her arm has her whirl around.

The woman is fast - she’ll give her that. Most of these nobles would be surprised even moments after you strike them down.

Certainly the man who attempted to make “use” of her had shown that.

But the woman - gentle at the edges though she may seem - is stepping back in a flash to avoid the calculated attempt Lavellan had made to grab and twist her arm. Now she is simply clutching empty air.

It’s admirable, in a way.

Which just makes her angrier.

“I do not care if my form offends your delicate sensibilities! Leave it be!” She snaps.

Any other elf in the palace, and she’s sure it would have cost her, but again, this woman is different. She was no easily offended noble, clinging to traditions and arrogance. She’d seen her floating about before, as distant and unassuming as she was. Her emotions flickered in the air more quietly than other elves, but she’s starting to think that was a choice of masking pain rather than broadcasting it.

Something sparks in the air and curls above her head before dissolving.

Yes, she has a definitive look of sorrow about her.

Lavellan wishes she didn’t feel inclined to liking her. She glares harder.

_I don’t want to be fixed!_

Pain curdles into the air around the woman’s head, and something else loud and shocking and exclamatory.

Still, when she turns, the woman doesn’t attempt to stop her again.

—

She is sitting with Solas, quietly enjoying the empty courtyard they had to themselves. It was smaller than most, and far less opulent. Pride had directed her towards it earlier on once he’d realized her disinterest in the overly refined gardens, and Solas - almost abashedly, had said he’d meant to show it to her himself when she’d led him there.

So he conceded defeat in a rare moment of agreeing with the choices of his younger self, and was simply existing beside her for as long as he could before another inevitable meeting came about and a servant sprung up with a summons from Mythal.

They weren’t speaking - they didn’t need to. 

The silence - the sense of being - was enough, or close to it. To simply have him at her back and know that they were. Not anything in particular - just _were_. 

And then she sees Curiosity following Pride at one of the entrances. The white wolf’s ears prick towards where she and Solas sit - half in the shade - and she knows instantly that they had been looking for her.

The way the ears flatten against his head, she knows also that they had not expected _Solas_ to be with her.

He makes a motion to turn around and abort, but Curiosity perks up in delight and bounds toward them, forcing the white wolf to follow rather than carry through with his escape.

Solas stiffens beside her, and she knows without looking that he’s shooting the other wolf a look of derision. _Perhaps it is his version of a greeting_ , she thinks dryly.

Curiosity starts gushing, “Pride was wondering if you were lonely and I was wondering what you were doing and we both thought we should find you and we did! I know what you were doing, you were sitting and being quiet, which is nice sometimes, but I’m not very good at it and -“

Pride wearily cuts her off with some hushing noises, and unlike usual, Curiosity’s voice trails off. 

There is a quiet reflectiveness about the clearing, Lavellan supposes, that made one hesitate to disturb it. A bit like deciding whether to go about lifting the entire contents of an old lake from the earth. Certainly it could be done with monumental effort, but there seemed few excuses good enough to try.

Despite his aversion to Pride, she smiles slightly when she feels Solas breathe a small sigh of relief from her back.

“Hello Curiosity, hello Pride.” She says softly, and even a bit warmly.

She wouldn’t say the moment is pleasant, exactly - peaceful is closer to the experience she’s feeling.

They simply are, at this moment.

And that is when Compassion arrives.

-

She tilts her head at the new arrival, “I am fine.” She says, not defensively but assuredly, perhaps with no small amount of bafflement. Indeed, it may only be for the moment that she is fine, but nevertheless, Compassion should not feel the need to draw near unless someone was feeling particularly bad.

Unless...

She turns to send a questioning look at Solas, who blinks at her in equal surprise with a small shake of his head.

“It is not you.” Compassion agrees, not necessarily pointing out who it is addressing. She supposes it must be her.

“I am here because Danem’dru aches.” Compassion continues.

To her surprise, Solas straightens slightly, ears perking, recognizing the name, “That is unfortunate.” He says after a beat.

Curiosity takes on the form of a Parrot and settles beside her - and Pride, ears flattening, takes up beside her, flank brushing her arm draped over Curiosity, and tail carefully being arranged to not disturb Solas’. Solas’ eyes narrow but he doesn’t say anything.

“Have one of us wronged her?” Curiosity wonders, “She is so sad and soft, I hope not.”

Compassion hums, “A hurt caused unknowingly still smarts.”

“It is not an idle pain if Compassion feels compelled to approach on it’s behalf.” Solas murmurs, and if he had been a man, she can almost see the slight frown on his features.

“She did not mean to offend when she asked after your arm.”

Everyone stiffened beside her, turning to look at her in surprise at the idea that _she_ of all people had caused this, and Lavellan blinked when she realized who they were talking about.

That was the woman’s name, apparently.

Danem’dru. Broken sacrifice? It never bodes well when someone’s title becomes their name.

She thinks of Abelas momentarily before she answers.

“An offense caused unknowingly still burns.” She says quietly, and if the arm in question had been restored, she would have crossed it over her chest with her other at this point. Instead her posture turns slightly rigid.

Compassion inclines it’s head, “She will not approach you again because it tangles and tears inside, so I mean to untangle it. You would find solace in each others’ company.” It is stated like a fact, and Lavellan’s hard composure melts slightly.

She hesitates, then nods her willingness to hear.

A part of her wants this Danem'dru as a friend. All of them were good, but none of them had that same sort of heaviness in their eyes, as if - even on a smaller scale - they had felt the fierce sort of desperation and despair she’d been inflicted with, had struggled to no end against a crushing fate. Danem'dru didn’t project her feelings as loudly; she hid them in her eyes.

Solas knew, but she was grateful in a sense that he could never fully understand - and Compasion felt it but in the end did not know it. Curiosity _wanted_ to know - but she’d never share that burden. And Pride knew there was something, but had no context or understanding for what. She was thankful none the less, of course. She’s not sure she would have lasted in this new old world without their care or company.

Compassion inclines its head and begins.

“She never meant to offend, for she comes from a place of familiarity. She looked on your form and was not angered by its asymmetry, but remembers a time when she, too suffered gravely from such a loss.”

 _Empathy_ , the spirit is saying, _not pity_.

But before Lavellan can exclaim at that, the spirit continues.

“She is no stranger to being made and unmade -“ At her side, Solas flinches minutely, but her glance only darts to his mask of indifference before flicking back to the spirit.

“- And so she hurts for you, and wishes to help.”

Lavellan sighs, “I shall speak to her then, and we will reach our own accord.”

Pride perks up beside her, “If I may ask, what torment did she suffer? I know she was a slave of Andruil’s, so I assume the trauma involved was terrible, but I saw upon her no marks of aggression when she came her for refuge, nor any upon her face.” 

“How becoming it is of you to enquire about her most personal experiences when she is not present.” Solas says, sarcasm dripping so fully that Lavellan elbows him slightly when Pride’s posture droops.

“I hadn’t meant -“ He begins, but the spirit puts up a hand.

“Not all marks of trauma are physical, and she had troubles expressing after.” The spirit said softly.

The white wolf nods dumbly, unwilling to speak after being chastised.

The spirit pauses, considering, “It may help you in the future to know her trials, and she would not mind if you come by this information through me. She finds it hard to speak of.”

The spirit contemplates this, then settles across them.

“It began with a follower of Ghilannain...”

—

“He had won the favor of the Halla mother in some quest to get her rare materials with which to craft new beings. He had brought back so many in such excess, in fact, that she told him he may request a new creature from her, and she would make it.”

The empty courtyard had somehow grown warmer as evening fell, pinks and purples falling in streaks across the horizon.

“So the noble told her he wished for a creature like a halla, but flawless, shaped closer to a horse than a deer, and instead of having two horns curling from its forehead, would instead sport only one, for he was of the definitive feeling that it should seem more divine this way. It would be a creature as pure as Arlathan - a living embodiment of perfection.”

Pride and Solas cringed beside her as Compassion talked, Pride more obviously, and Solas she could tell only because of the way his pelt shifted around her and the slightest curl of his lip when she turned her head.

“What?” She said, interrupting for the sake of confusion, “What is it?”

“I know this story.” Solas said in quiet distaste - “It does not end well.”

Surprisingly, however, Pride did not seem familiar with it despite the obvious - perhaps he had not heard the story before? She assumes Compassion was not the one to tell him last time, otherwise Solas would not react to it so much.

“To tell the Halla mother that you want something more perfect than a halla…” He winced, muzzle wrinkling to reveal pink gums as he grimaced, “I do not relish the thought of how much that likely offended her.” He said finally, and Lavellan winced in understanding.

“What happened next?” Curiosity said, nearly vibrating by her side in excitement.

“Ghilan'nain was not of the mind to simply punish the noble for his words - for indeed she had promised him a favor, and she did not intend to back out. But she was, in her quiet ways, livid with his implications.” Compassion agreed, “He was oblivious to her anger, but Andruil was less so.”

They waited, attention arrested.

“She spent many years locked within her home, and instead of crafting the creature she had initially intended - one for the Huntress in her games - she worked on creating a perfect beast. When asked why her own had not taken precedence, the Halla mother icily informed all around that if she was creating perfection itself, then surely it was more important than all her past creations combined. Still, the noble did not realize the error of his ways, for Ghilan'nain’s wrath is far removed from more obvious of the leaders to the People.”

Solas sighed, and Pride’s ear twitched, but she decided not to press it.

“Finally, the Halla mother emerged, and with her was a creature unlike any before it and any that may come since. It was soft at every edge, yet power coursed through its body, wielding magic as if it was kindred to the Dreaming itself. It’s legs were delicate and slim, but it held great strength within them, and could bound through all the forests of our world with more grace and speed than any halla. It’s coat was a purer white than the light of the moon, and from its head crested one exquisite, wicked horn. This twisting horn glowed like a glittering star trapped in crystal, and its magic was so potent and its beauty was so great that many of those who looked upon it would have their breath arrested until they fainted, and would forever ache after the creature. It was said that the world itself was entranced by the whole of its being.”

Solas tensed, and that was when she knew the story was about to take a bad turn.

"The man exclaimed in delight at the being, but the first punishment Ghilan'nain had intended came to be - the creature was so pure it could not bear the company of any others, and so it fled at the sight of him, least he pass his own impurities on to it. And now the perfection of the creature was shown - for it stepped as quietly as a breath on the earth, and ran as fast as the reaching moonlight, and had such energy that it could have fought against the currents of the oceans and drawn a tie. Of course, driven mad with desire for it, the noble pursued it endlessly."

She relaxed, and so did Curiosity and Pride. Until she realized that Solas was firm as stone at her back.

“I have never heard the story told in such detail.” He said quietly, and something pained was in his expression.

Compassion nodded sadly, “That is because you were not told from a first hand account.” She agreed.

Everyone frowned again.

And before they could ask, Compassion continued.

“But still the Halla mother was angry. Angry that indeed she had crafted a being more perfect than halla - and angry that the noble had not been punished more. Her wife had offered his corpse to be used in the making of the creature, but Ghilan'nain had replied it was too crude for the pursuit of perfection, knowing she could not punish him if he was dead. Still, Andruil wished to please her wife, so she planned to catch and kill the creature herself and offer it as a sacrifice - a trophy - to the Halla mother, and tell all assembled that none could surpass the Halla mother in beauty or perfection. Perhaps naively and lovingly she believed this to be true, for she had yet to lay eyes on the creature, as indeed, it was as skilled at escaping her as it was the noble, and she barely noticed the flash of white fur before it was gone without so much as a whisper and an arrow flying wide and a trap somehow still undisturbed.”

Compassion settled its arms behind its back, and Solas dipped his head - almost as if in mourning.

“What?” She said softly to him, but he did not look away from the spirit, and only murmured in reply, “Listen.”

She frowned, but Compassion started again, so she did just that.

“Furious and frustrated, Andruil refused to concede defeat. She spent many years pursuing it, and nearly became hysteric with the urge to finally end it and prevent it from besting her further. One day, after seeing only a glimpse before it was gone, she turned to find the noble there beside her in the empty clearing.”

“Why do you shoot at perfection?” The crazed remains of a man wondered, and so warped was he that he had begun to turn into Desire itself, but also something akin to Desperation."

“It is covered with a sleeping poison.” Andruil lied, for there was no poison on the shaft, “For I mean to bring it back to it’s mother Ghilan'nain as tribute.” She added, omitting that she meant to kill it.”

“In great excitement, for surely if he could not catch the creature, the Huntress would have better luck, he told her that he had learned if one was possessing of a great virtue one could draw the creature close, if only for a time, and it would let its guard down. But he, a now outcast exile, almost half spirit, an abomination -“

Solas and she flinch, but Compassion continues.

“-had no such people available to him. Andruil, however, would. Yet still the Huntress grew angry at the wasted years, and the years yet to waste, asking where she would find someone with such great virtue? So he told her that children possessing great innocence had occasionally drawn the creature’s attention, but other - flawed - people were often close behind, and it would flee again. Andruil considered these words, and considered, too, killing the noble, but she knew Ghilan'nain would be upset at granting him mercy from his terrible existence, so instead she left on a new hunt.”

Compassion sighed, “Andruil searched far and wide, for children of the People are rare, and it is rarer still that they possess the true spark of innocence before it is taken from them. The children of nobles were too conceited and assured of their beauty to draw the creature’s attention for more than a moment. The rest of the children Andruil sought had their innocence taken by hardship or, as she discovered at each home of the gods that she visited, slavery.”

Solas’ claws curl into the grass beneath them, and she doesn’t think it was a conscious choice. Beside her, Pride frowns heavily.

“Finally, Andruil visited her mother to lament her inability to find a suitable child. But the All-Mother’s gaze sparkled, and her smile was soft, for she did not know then for what reason Andruil sought the Druast’daral - as it had been taken to being called, for it was so sacred it pierced your soul only by sight alone. Mythal bade her daughter come with her to one of her more secluded sanctuaries. There they met a ward of Mythal's unique. She was unlike most Dreaming born, indeed, she took the form of a child, a spirit so pure it had been called Asha’gaelathe by the All Mother before, for here was a spirit of innocence she had hidden away from the world to protect it.”

Curiosity began to bubble up with questions, but both wolves shushed her at once, and despite the dark turn of the story, Lavellan nearly chuckled to herself. No doubt Curiosity had been refraining as best she could. She patted the parrot in commiseration as Compassion continued.

“Andruil begged to take ownership of the spirit for a little while, and bemused, the All Mother granted her the spirit temporarily. Andruil left with the child and made her trap. In an open field did she bide the child to stay, and so the child did, unaware of what was soon to happen.”

Lavellan felt dread curl in her gut. She’d been wondering what the story had to do with Danem’dru, and now, as they all shifted uneasely with worry, the idea is beginning to form in her mind.

“The Huntress lay in wait, and only a decade later, as the child waited for the promised company, a slender foreleg stepped into the clearing. Slowly, year by year, the creature drew closer, ears pricked for any threat, eyes wary of any peril, and legs braced to bolt at the first sign of danger. And yet the child would coo, and draw it’s ears towards her laughter, and her arms would wave and draws it’s gaze to her form, and she would continue working on flower crowns for them and the Druast’daral made a terrible mistake - it began to relax.“

Lavellan’s head feels light, and then she realizes she had been holding her breath. She inhales slightly.

“Once, even the mighty Andruil would have been unable to shoot upon the Druast’daral when she saw it, but she had spent too long bitterly pursuing it, and indeed, each year it took to get closer to the child of innocence, so to did Andruil’s resolve to kill it slowly return.”

A pause.

"Finally, it drew close enough to touch, and in delight the child and Druast’daral embraced. Andruil may have decided on her course of action, but she allowed them one year before she drew her bow and notched her arrow. The Druast’daral’s ears pricked to the noise, and it’s eyes sought the Huntress, but it did not brace it’s legs, and so the arrow found it’s way home. And thus was the sacred pierced - druast darem. And thus was the sacred sacrificed - druast druem. But she had not shot a killing blow - and she’d used a special arrow made of starlight and shadow, which pierced the soul and not the body, so that her smaller hunts remained unspoiled. For Ghilan'nain she had done this. And yet, as she drew near, the child wept, and all her innocence fled, and she so fled the clearing. Andruil could not bring herself to kill the Druast’daral. She sent it into dream and set about her grim work, a new idea forming in her mind to punish the noble further and spare the life of the Druast’darem.”

“Oh.” Curiosity said softly, “Oh _no_.”

Pride shifted to look at her, but her wide eyes were on Compassion, and Lavellan felt Solas sigh wearily.

“To the noble Andruil carried the unconscious Druast’darem, and to his horror and all around, she pronounced none as peerless as Ghilan'nain, and none as pure as Ghilan'nain, and none as perfect as Ghilan'nain, and left it there. For from it’s head she had sawed off the perfect horn, and this she brought back to Ghilan'nain, who was both saddened and appeased.”

“This is where the story usually ends.” Solas murmurs.

“No,” Compassion says softly, “No story truly ends. Even after death.”

They waited.

“When the Druast’darem came away from the Dreaming and found how it had been violated, it was claimed by Despair. So too was the noble, who then stole his life away. But the Druast’darem, whose magic had laid centered in the horn, whose emotions were cut off from the outside of the world -“

A soft murmur towards Lavellan at this, a secret - _as you are_.

“ - and who ever remained beloved by the world itself, could not die. For when it dashed itself upon the rocks, they would turn to grass, and when it cast itself over cliffs, it would be caught in the air and gently placed down, and when it threw itself upon fire, it would not burn it’s form. Now the blessing had become curse. But the Druast’darem knew there was one yet who could understand it, so it went to the temple of Mythal, and then begged the child to end it’s life. The child had become changed by the experience, and Mythal had not been pleased by her corruption and loss of purity. Less so was she when indeed, she saw the Druast’darem, and ended it’s life out of mercy, despite all the child begged she not.”

It seemed even the leaves and petals lay still in that moment.

And then the group turned to look at each other. Pride said nothing, eyes wide on Compassion, surprising Lavellan with the intensity of his anguish. Solas bent his head, except his eyes were on _her_ , and of course he would take this as an opportunity to lament everything he had done to her. She wondered if he could ever bear to hear a sad story and _not_ end up comparing it to her. He did so love an excuse to devolve into self-recrimination and loathing. Curiosity had fluttered up and out of her hold, flapping around in a panic.

“Danem’dru was the child, wasn’t she?” Curiosity wailed.

And then, to everyone’s surprise, Compassion said softly, “No."

Solas tilted his head, “I do not understand.”

Compassion hummed, “Though Druast’darel became Druast’darem, no one realized it was Druast’bell’anar’is, _forever sacred _. So when it died, it’s soul, too bright for death, faded into the Dreaming and recollected into a spirit. With horror, Druast’bell’anar’is realized it would forever remain incomplete and in agony. So the spirit resolved to get back it’s horn, where Andruil had mounted it over their two thrones, and Ghilan'nain had cast wards to prevent theft. For hundreds of years she attempted to find a way to her missing core - and for that many years Ghilan'nain prevented her. Until finally, she slipped under and grasped the horn and became again whole. A new body was made, for the horn carried such power - from Waking to Dreaming born - and Ghilan'nain and Andruil found the intruder with much alarm and anger. She fled, for though her new body was strange, she remembered when she was freer then the starlight and faster than the wind. She fled to the one place she knew she would find sanctuary within.”__

__“Here.” Pride breathed._ _

__Compassion sighed, “Of course the Huntress and the Halla Mother pursued her, and the Halla Mother exclaimed in anger that her property had been taken, and the Huntress that her quarry had returned to life. But Mythal, ever clever Mythal, assuaged the two of them, and when they asked why she gave the creature refuge, she spread wide her hands to answer, for she had seen the pain of Danem’dru, and her _compassion_ bade she act.”_ _

__Curiosity sqwaked and Pride bent his head to mirror Solas’, but Lavellan just waited - just watched._ _

__“Wife of my daughter, you came to me to catch a mighty quarry.” Mythal said, “But I see here no such thing. It is a pitiable creature, and it would be _unjust_ to met out any revenge upon it.” The two gods cried out in anger, but she continued, “As it was, I lent unto you a person under my protection,” and here did the Huntress grew quiet, “Without asking for compensation.” Ghilan'nain exclaimed, “The deal did not ask for payment!"_ _

__“Indeed.” Mythal agreed, “And I would not call upon payment now.” The goddess waited, “ _If_ you had returned her unto me undamaged.”_ _

__"Here, Andruil winced. She had indeed broken the spirit of Purity Mythal had worked so hard to protect, and had not even returned the child out of courtesy.”_ _

__“I ask for a fair recompense - this creature is as pure as the child was. So I shall take her for myself.”_ _

__“Ghilan'nain began to argue, but the All Mother put up her hands, “The noble has been dealt his justice for slandering your works. I, however, have not for the destruction of my company.”_ _

__“And what of my property?” Ghilan'nain challenged, “For that horn was gifted and made by me.”_ _

__“This creature would be impure without the horn. Unless you mean to craft another as substitute, I am owed a debt that this pays.”_ _

__The Halla mother finally calmed, and cast a gaze over the cowering Danem’dru. “As the All Mother commands” She said, and left. Andruil left soon after. Danem’dru became a guest to Mythal’s palace, her only purpose to tend the gardens and spirits. She cannot leave for Mythal’s worry that she will be beset upon by agents of Andruil or Ghilan'nain.”_ _

__Silence._ _

__“So she saw your limb and ached for when she, too, was incomplete. She would heal you, would stay close by your side. She has an aversion to most Waking born, and even most Dreaming born, but she has a special connection to you.”_ _

Lavellan nodded minutely.

__Compassion inclined its head and then left._ _

__“…Shit.” Lavern said softly in common._ _

__After a pause, “Agreed.” Solas said._ _

__Curiosity and Pride looked on in bafflement, but the fact that they didn’t ask translation what either had said only proved that it was obvious._ _

__—_ _

__She was seated on a bench in one of the more lavish courtyards - though the flowers here were natural, and it wasn’t as spacious as most. Still, the willowy trees, laden with white blossoms, caused Lavellan’s breath to catch in her throat at the sight. Underneath one, Danem’dru waited._ _

__Lavellan had only been wandering - for none of her entourage currently accompanied her - and then, somehow, a winding path had led her here. As if the woman had been there for her all along. And she could half see it, now - there was the image of a woman waiting, dressed in white, but at the edges of her vision, a phantom beast sat there with her, a misty silhouette, equine head bent. Something seemed missing from it, though Lavellan could not place what._ _

__She walked up to the bench and stood before her awkwardly. Danem’dru motioned for her to sit beside her, so she did._ _

__“I wish to apologize for how shallow my request seemed.” Danem’dru said finally, voice soft, “For I have not had occasion to talk to others very often, and it has been long since I approached any but Mythal.”_ _

__She nodded, feeling slightly ashamed, “I am sorry for how I reacted. I misunderstood and behaved unbecomingly.”_ _

__Instead of agreeing, the creature just gave a slight laugh, underneath which seemed to be the sound of wind chimes, and Lavellan abruptly thought of running in an open, empty field during a chilly, foggy morning._ _

__“When I first came here, I had troubles using this body to express my emotions after having been cut off from the Dreaming in my horn. Others would approach me, demand that I think and feel louder so they could better understand. My reactions were far more… unbecoming.”_ _

__Lavern could feel it, then, the edge of soft, simmering rage, that had eventually been extinguished from lack of air._ _

__“I asked because…” Danem’dru paused, then bent forward and retrieved something from under the bench. A long, slim bundle lay in her arms, cream colored cloth obscured something Lavellan could only assume was a weapon of some kind. A moment later, her suspicions were proved correct, as Danem’dru delicately pulled back the flaps and revealed a shining blade._ _

__Lavellan sucked in a breath._ _

__It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was not metal - perhaps crystal? - and beneath the glossy, translucent surface it seemed as if someone had poured thousands of granules of silver and diamond, sparkling in the light and with every shift. The sword gave off a faint glow that reminded Lavellan distantly of lyrium, so white it would likely burn its memory faintly into the backs of her eyelids when she closed her eyes. The hilt was not gold, but it glittered dimly, and was of some creamy colored metal._ _

__It seemed to sing - to call softly to Lavellan._ _

__She offered it, and against her better judgement, Lavellan put a firm grasp on the blade, and lifted it._ _

__“It is better wielded by two hands rather than one."_ _

__It sang even louder in her grip, reverberating through her arm, a small chorus of delight, as if the sword was praising her for the initiative._ _

__It was - unlike most great swords - definitely light enough to lift with one hand. But the balance was a bit awkward, Lavellan had to admit. It was beyond any weapon she’d ever seen. Worthy of a god, maybe._ _

__She glanced up to search Danem’dru’s face._ _

__“Oh.” She whispered, realizing what had been missing._ _

__For the shadow form that hovered over the woman was indeed the shape of Druast’darem - but not Druast’darel. The long, slim horn of Compassion’s story was missing._ _

__The sword sparkled in the light._ _

__“I cannot take this.” Lavellan said, throat dry. She placed it back in Danem’dru’s lap, upon the cloth._ _

__“You are the only one I would feel comfortable giving it to.” Danem’dru insisted._ _

__Lavern suddenly realized all of the emotion storms the elves normally sported had not hovered above Danem’dru’s head for the entirety of their conversation._ _

__“I - but -“ She started, feeling at a loss as she made to place the sword back in the other woman’s lap._ _

__“I cannot leave these grounds. Mythal has long tried to be kind to me, but there is no greater pain for me than the loss of freedom."_ _

__A pang as Lavellan absently agreed._ _

__“You, however,” Danem’dru continued, “May go, and I see in you a kindred unlike any other I have met in all my years. You will not abuse my gift. You are the only one deserving of it.”_ _

__Lavellan bowed her head, “You don’t know that.” She whispered softly._ _

__Danem’dru laughed again, a sigh of the blossoms dancing, skittering, scattered on the wind, of freedom._ _

__“All the spirits in your company once flocked to me - save perhaps Curiosity, for she was young and I was cold, for I only wanted to know why it had happened, and did not want to hear any answers, and Pride, for I had no pride in anything, and he was young and new to his body. I have sought their counsel, and they have agreed.”_ _

__Lavellan felt a flush creeping up her cheeks, though for what she couldn’t say. Sorrow, Rage, and Compassion had agreed on her behalf?_ _

__“I can’t. You aren’t meant to be unwhole.” She said again._ _

__The sword was offered to her._ _

__“I mean to wade into Uthenara, and never wake again. I have long grown weary of my existence - I have had no purpose since the day I reclaimed my core. I refused to simply fade, however, on account of all I had given only to waste away once I had accomplished it. I have long ached to leave this world behind, but I could not abandon a sense that something more was to be given.”_ _

__“You have given too much already.” Lavellan protested._ _

__The being laughed, rich and full as a warm night with fireflies upon the air, “I have given relatively little, actually. I have had much _taken_ from me. I would like my last piece to be given freely, for once, for certainly the moment I meant to rest, someone would seek me out and rend it from me again.” She smiled, but her eyes shined and she cast her gaze downward._ _

__All arguments died in Lavellan's throat._ _

__What could she say to that?_ _

__“Okay.” She whispered._ _

__“Thank you.” Danem’dru sighed, “ _Thank you_.”_ _

__And then before Lavellan could echo the sentiments, she was gone. With magic, Lavellan was sure, as she blinked and then gathered up the sword and cloth on the bench beside her. Looking underneath again revealed a plain scabbard with little adornment save some scant gold embellishments at the top. It sheathed perfectly, and then, after a moment of pause, Lavellan strapped it to her waist._ _

__She watched the white petals float down around her for a moment._ _

__It seemed as if without Danem’dru, much of the enchanting effects of the courtyard had lost their appeal._ _

__She made her way towards the indoors looking for Solas - she felt like he would understand._ _

__She didn’t feel giddy with the gift, but an abject sense of loneliness._ _

**Author's Note:**

> 1) The sword whispers things to her. Not secret creepy things. Things like 'Do you think bald wolves might look like nugs?' and 'did you see Haninan accidentally drip some of that broth on himself and pretend it didn't happen?' and 'theres a gardener that it irritates to no end if you turn the flowers blue when you leave in this one courtyard - take a right.'
> 
> 2) I literally only thought of the bog unicorn as I was posting this and I now headcanon that was absolutely Druast'darem and of course only let Lavellan ride her ; w ;
> 
> Translations
> 
> bel'annar'is / bell'anar'is - n. eternity, forever, the concept of 'many forevers' in the sense of something unending, and something apart from this world. 
> 
> druast - adj. sacred, cherished, hallowed, consecrated, holy
> 
> daral - ppr. going, piercing
> 
> druem - pp. sacrificed, offered, atoned
> 
> dru - n. sacrifice, offering, atonement, ritualistic kill
> 
> danem - pp. broke, broken, shattered, split
> 
> I'll add the terms I used and direct translations later, but you get the gist.


End file.
